


replace it with love

by penelopes



Category: Men's Basketball RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:02:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26065441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penelopes/pseuds/penelopes
Summary: When he drops back into the seat beside CJ, he does so forcefully, top heavy from the burden he's carrying. That's just like Dame to think he's gotta shoulder all of it. CJ's broader than him, though, he's got the room to share, if Dame would let him.
Relationships: Damian Lillard/CJ McCollum
Comments: 12
Kudos: 36





	replace it with love

**Author's Note:**

> aftermath of their game three loss to the lakers
> 
> title from heavy by birdtalker:
> 
> _the only way to lose that fearful feeling /_  
>  _replace it with love that's healing_
> 
> enjoy!

They all drag themselves onto the team bus after their second loss to the Lakers. Coach already gave them a stern talking to and words of encouragement too after the game. It’s Dame’s turn now.

Dame's rallying speech sounds hollow to CJ, like he doesn't believe everything he's saying anymore. They're all so exhausted; every game has been do-or-die. And it seems like no matter what they do, no matter how hard they work, it just keeps getting harder and harder to succeed.

They're built for this, Dame says, standing in the aisle beside CJ's seat. They knew this was going to be a fight, and they got a lot more in 'em then they've seen so far. They gone keep fighting, Dame tells them.

 _Please,_ he doesn't say. But CJ can hear it in his voice. The nearly imperceptible way it falters. The way his throat gulps around a thing unsaid. He knows Dame like the back of his hand--better, even. Dame doesn't beg for anything, and he won't ask for more from the team than he asks from himself. But _please_ CJ hears in his voice and sees in the tense line of his shoulders.

He pulls his mask back over his face when he's done, but CJ already knows the shape his mouth takes. The disappointment that pulls down at the corners, the doubt that tucks in against his teeth.

When he drops back into the seat beside CJ, he does so forcefully, top heavy from the burden he's carrying. That's just like Dame to think he's gotta shoulder all of it. CJ's broader than him, though, he's got the room to share, if Dame would let him. Dame sits up straight, a momentary lapse in stature, simply that.

CJ wants to believe what Dame said--that they can get this done. They haven't come this far to just go home. They ain't done yet. But more than that, CJ wants Dame to believe that even if they do go home, they did everything they could. He did all that he could do.

Because if they don't win, CJ will be alright. Everyone will be alright, in the end. Sometimes that's just the way things go, and it's brutal, but they'd bounce back. He needs Dame to believe that too. He can tell already that's not likely to happen; the weight on Dame's shoulders is almost debilitating.

CJ spreads his legs out until his knee knocks against Dame's. Dame doesn't acknowledge him, but he doesn't snatch his leg away either. They sit that way, achy knees pressed together, to their hotel.

-

In the elevator up to their floor, Dame stands on the opposite side of CJ, shoulder pressed into the wall like it's helping hold him up.

He still hasn't said anything, but CJ has studied the tense line of his shoulders and back all the way through the hotel. Dame has his guard up, that's why he's trying to be smaller in the corner of the elevator. But CJ has his number and CJ can't be fooled. But he'll let him have this, here: standing stoic in front of everyone else, unbothered and confident, tired but determined.

He follows Dame out of the elevator, falling a few steps behind. CJ knows Dame better than most anyone else, but even sometimes he doesn't know whether Dame will choose to internalize everything and come back better or allow himself the kindness of comfort and understanding first.

Dame reaches his hotel room before CJ catches up to him, but Dame's standing there holding the door open for him. An invitation for kindness.

CJ follows him in.

-

When the door shuts, Dame methodically sets aside his mask, steps out of his shoes, and wiggles out of his sweatpants. He still doesn't say anything, but there's really no need.

CJ undresses as well, the only sound at midnight in their room is that of their breathing. Dame doesn't have to say anything because CJ can see it all on his face. The furrow of his brow, his pursed mouth, the flare of his nostrils. The way he's trying to hold himself together, but the facade is crumbling.

He sits on the edge of the bed in his boxers and t-shirt, toes curled into the carpet, right hand cradling the splinted fingers of his left. He drops his head between his shoulders and inhales sharply.

"You did good, D," CJ says into the quiet. He moves to lean against the dresser across from Damian.

Dame chuckles harshly at that, humorless and affronted.

"You did," CJ assures him. He's tired of Damian thinking he's ever done anything less.

Dame looks up at him then, eyes narrowed into a glare. He's so frustrated that he'll get mean if CJ keeps pushing.

CJ pushes. "You been doing all that you can do. We all have."

Dame scoffs and rolls his eyes. Truly unforgiving of himself. He'd never blame his team--that's not the leader he is. But Damian oftentimes is so quick to take responsibility that he forgets it's not always about him. It's not always up to him to carry the load and the worry and the pressure.

"You don't think we been doing enough?" CJ accuses, wanting him to see that they're in this together. Ain't none of it just Dame's burden.

"I think no matter what, nothing's good enough." Dame says back roughly, letting the despair that's been trying to claw its way out of him finally escape.

That makes CJ pause. Maybe it's not about Dame thinking he has to shoulder all of the responsibility, but the fact that maybe it doesn't matter _who_ shoulders it, nothing is going to be enough.

"You had twenty-eight, I had thirty-four, Melo had twenty and it _still_ wasn't good enough." He laughs pitifully again. "I mean. What more can I do?" He asks miserably, not of CJ, but maybe God and the world.

What more can he do when he's already done everything he could?

CJ has seen him upset and disappointed before, but never this defeated. He wants to know how to ease that worry, how to make him feel better. But he doesn't know how, because frankly, CJ feels the same way. They've worked _so_ hard these past few weeks, given everything they have in every single game, and now they're coming up short.

It's hard not to be discouraged, but Dame is usually the one to still rally them. He believes in and trusts this team more than anyone. So, for Dame to be like this? CJ wants desperately to make that go away, but he isn't sure there's any way to do that.

"D," he finally says, stepping over in front of him.

Damian looks up at him, glassy-eyed and unsure of himself. Tries to laugh it off when CJ cups the side of his face to keep him looking up at CJ.

"Hey," CJ says worriedly, running his thumb across the apple of Dame's cheek. He looks like he's about to cry. And it's not that CJ has never seen him cry, but Dame never really stops shouldering burdens long enough to let himself falter under the weight of them.

"Baby," he tries again. That makes Dame's eyes flutter closed. His breath cuts off sharply and rattles out of him in starts and stops. That makes him cry.

"Baby," CJ says more urgently, trying to get a look at Dame's face even as he tries to pull away from CJ's grasp.

CJ doesn't let him go. Instead, he pulls Dame closer to him, and Dame finally relents, pressing his face into CJ's stomach, silently crying into his t-shirt. CJ keeps a firm palm against the back of Damian's head and uses his other hand to soothe the tension in Dame's shoulders.

Dame doesn't pull away. If anything, the more nonsense CJ mutters to him and the longer he rubs his back, the further into CJ Dame presses. Like his strings have been snipped and he trusts only CJ to hold him up.

"Shhh," he whispers nonsensically, wishing there were more he could do. But the fact is, there still isn't anything he can say. He doesn't have the right words this time, unlike all the other times. And even if he did, he knows Dame would not heed them, would scoff and turn into himself.

Words don't always work on Damian, and CJ has learned the hard way throughout the years that he doesn't put much value in what people say to him. You could say a million things, but if you don't act on them, then what's the point?

So, CJ loves him and would do anything in the world for him. And that means standing in front of him, bone-tired and sore, while Dame falls apart against him. That means thumbing the soft shell of his ear in comfort when he sighs shakily into CJ's shirt.

That means pulling away and then pulling Dame onto the bed proper, settling against the mattress and letting Dame curl up around him. He tucks his tear-stricken face into CJ's neck and wraps an arm around CJ's middle, tucks a leg between CJ's, comfortable and safe.

There isn't much he can say to Dame, but he can hold him as he falls apart and thank God that Dame doesn't have to do it alone.

-

Dame eventually stops crying, but his face is still tucked in against CJ's neck. He knows it's because Dame feels embarrassed and bruised, tender to the touch.

It's freezing in their room and it's late, and CJ is _so._ _tired_. Dame is too, he knows; he might have even dozed off. CJ reaches to pull the comforter up over them, slowly as to not wake Dame if he is asleep.

Dame moves against him though, grabs at the comforter too, and helps pull it up over them.

"You wanna sleep?" CJ whispers, the first thing either of them have said in the thirty minutes since CJ pulled them into bed.

Dame raises up a bit to look down at him and--God. God, he's the most beautiful man CJ has ever seen. Bruised around the eyes from crying, circles underneath from exhaustion, bottom lip red and nearly raw from biting at it. Strong and resilient and selfless, and so kind and _human_.

"Thank you," Dame croaks, voice rough from crying and disuse. Shy.

He leans down and kisses CJ, sweet and appreciative, not a promise of more, but a promise of everything.

Then he lays his head on CJ's chest and squirms around until he's comfortably wrapped around CJ again.

The bedside lamps are still on, casting a dim glow across the room, but CJ is too tired to do anything about it. Dame is falling asleep on top of him already. 

But just when he thinks Dame might finally be asleep, Dame speaks quietly. "Imma be better tomorrow, C." He promises.

CJ suddenly feels like he might cry too. _You don't have to be,_ he doesn't say. _You could play the worst you've ever played and I wouldn't care,_ he doesn't say. _I'll always love you just the same_ , he doesn't say. _Maybe even more, and fiercer._

He tightens his hold on Dame and only says, "I know you will, D."

They fall asleep after that. So wrapped up in each other that you can't tell the difference between the two.

**Author's Note:**

> lemme know what you think!
> 
> you can chat/yell with me [here](https://collarboen.tumblr.com)


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